Purge
by Sedentary Wordsmith
Summary: Humans touch what isn't theirs and the Master teaches them a lifelong lesson about playing with his belongings. (Warning: rape, torture, graphic violence.)


**Purge**

The Master stood smirking victoriously over the Doctor half sprawled on the floor as he was restrained by three guards, one on each arm and another with a loose chokehold around his neck. "Did you really think a perception filter was going to work on me?"

"I can help you," the Doctor insisted, gazing earnestly into the other Time Lord's eyes. "Let me help."

The Master rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Always with the sanctimonious savior of the universe crap. How ever to shut him up? Ooh, I know!" He addressed the guards holding the Doctor down. "Why don't you go teach my friend a lesson in minding his tongue down in the holding cells? Oh—just don't kill him. I want to save that pleasure for myself."

Nearby, Martha gasped in fear and started forward, only to be caught by the arm by Jack, who shook his head in silent warning. There was nothing they could do for the Doctor now. Instead, he pressed his vortex manipulator into her hands and gave her a meaningful look. "Remember what he said."

Martha glanced helplessly between the teleportation device in her hands and the Doctor being bodily dragged from the room. His eyes met hers and he gave a small nod, face set in stone. Tears streaming, she gave a final long look around at all the faces she loved, staring grimly at her in return. The Doctor, her parents and sister, even Jack—this could be the last time she ever saw any of them. With a deep breath, she activated the vortex manipulator.

On the ground far below, standing alone amid the chaos of the Toclafane, Martha remembered the Doctor's orders to use the countdown if something should happen to him and his first plan went wrong. The Master had seen through their perception filter disguises, had known she was there with the Doctor, but had not even cared for her presence as an insignificant human. She would use that superiority as his downfall, walking the Earth unseen to orchestrate his demise. It would be a long and lonely year for her, she was sure, but it was nothing compared to what the Master had in store for those left aboard the Valiant.

oOoOo

Blood splattered on the floor as another vicious blow connected with the Doctor's face. His coat, suit jacket, shirt, and tie had all been removed and bruises and split skin littered his face and torso. But his eyes remained clear as he spat a mouthful of blood to the side and stared squarely back at his attackers.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you still follow him?" the Doctor asked the three guards sincerely. "You must see now what sort of a man he is. He's not what he's claimed to be. The Master is going to destroy the Earth unless I stop him. Please, you can help me—"

One of the guards cut him off with a brutal punch across his jaw. "Don't look like he's learned his lesson yet, do he?" he asked the other two.

"Maybe we should put a bullet in his kneecap, see if his mouth can still run as well when there's lead in his body," another suggested, fingering his gun. "Mr. Saxon only said we have to keep him alive."

"Wait, I have a better idea," the third one said and the others looked at him with curiosity. He smirked lecherously. "I can think of at least one other way to keep his mouth occupied, can't you?" Judging by the identical smirks that appeared on their faces, they could. The Doctor, however, remained clueless even as the guard who suggested it stepped in front of his face and unzipped the fly of his black uniform trousers.

The Doctor recoiled when the man pulled his half-hard cock free and nudged it towards him, though he didn't have much room to retreat with the cell wall at his back. "What are you doing?" he demanded, disgusted.

"What's it look like, mate?" the guard laughed. "Open up now and no biting, hear?" He grabbed the Doctor's head by his hair and yanked it forward, needing the other two men to hold their prisoner still as he shoved his cock in his mouth. Almost immediately he withdrew again with a pained shout, cradling his injured penis in both hands. "He bit me! The fucker bit me!" he howled. The Doctor merely glared up at him in vengeful fury.

"How bad is it?" one of the others asked and the first cautiously took his hands away to see distinct teeth marks on his shaft but no blood. He fumed at the sight.

"I said no biting, ya soddin' fuck!" He raised the butt of his rifle and slammed it down on the Doctor's temple with a sharp crack, the other two joining in with the brutal beating that followed. When their anger was finally spent, the captured Time Lord lay curled up in a helpless ball on the floor, moaning lowly in pain as fresh blood streamed down his face and black bruises bloomed across his exposed side from at least one cracked rib.

"Learned your lesson yet, bitch?" one of the men questioned venomously, though the Doctor couldn't be entirely sure which. They were all starting to blur together a bit at this point. "We're gonna try again, and this time there'll be no biting or you'll _really_ regret it." The Doctor didn't visibly protest when a hard length was again pushed into his mouth, though he shuddered and gagged at the revolting taste. If he could just bear this for a few minutes more, it would be over and he'd be left in peace.

The man in front of him moaned in pleasure as he casually fucked the Doctor's mouth. "How is he, Thompson?" the slightly older black-haired one asked. "I want a go too!"

The one identified as Thompson laughed breathlessly, not breaking his rhythm. "He's got another end, don't he? Just take his arse. I'm busy here." The Doctor's eyes widened at the crassly spoken words and the other guard's eyes hesitantly fell to pinstriped trousers. "Oh, stop being such a ninny, Jacobs. Mr. Saxon only said we have to keep him alive, didn't he? This ain't even hurting him."

Jacobs seemed to accept this reasoning easily enough and reached for the kneeling Time Lord's trousers. The Doctor instantly drew back from both of them, ready to violently defend himself if they persisted, consequences be damned. True fear began to stir deep in his gut. He'd been in many undoubtedly rough situations over the past 900 years of space and time travel, but never one such as this. Humans were truly remarkable in their capacity for cruelty towards other living things.

"Don't you think this is going a bit far?" the third and youngest one, a blond boy looking barely in his 20s, asked hesitantly. The Doctor felt a sudden surge of affection for him despite the fact that he had just been beating him senseless a few minutes ago. "Roughing him up a bit is one thing, but I didn't sign up to rape prisoners."

Thompson rolled his eyes, angry that the Doctor had pulled away right when things were getting good. "Fuck, Murrey, you're an even bigger prat than Jacobs. Look, if you don't want to join the fun, then either hold him down for us or bugger off, yeah?" The young one hung his head, abashed in front of his seniors, and didn't leave.

"You don't want to do this," the Doctor tried reasoning with them. "This isn't what the Master meant. He's going to be very angry when he finds out what you've done." He had no idea whether or not this was true, as his old friends had become more unpredictable than ever with this latest regeneration, but he hoped that the possibility of their master's wrath might put enough fear in the guards to make them back off.

The Doctor's hearts sank as Jacobs laughed mirthlessly. "Are you still talking?"

Three pairs of hands reached for him and he fought them wildly, kicking and scratching and writhing away, but the Doctor was no match for their fists and the butts of their guns in his already weakened state. Two of them wrestled him to the floor as the third ripped open his trousers and pulled them off his flailing legs, earning himself a wild foot in the face. Jacobs reeled back, mouth bleeding freely, and swore at the Doctor before harshly kneeing him in his already cracked rib. The trapped Time Lord groaned piteously and fell still.

"There, that's better, innit?" Thompson mocked as they tugged their prisoner onto his hands and knees and he once again took his place in the bleeding mouth. Murrey held him still, looking away ashamedly as Jacobs hurriedly unbuckled his own belt and lowered his trousers before kneeling behind the Doctor. The Doctor tried struggling one last time, unable to forgive himself for allowing this to happen, and was rewarded with another brutal punch to his side. He felt the cracked rib break and give way, dangerously close to puncturing his lung.

Cursing the Doctor again for his bleeding mouth, Jacobs spat a wad of saliva and blood into his palm, which he then slathered onto his already straining erection as a crude lube. He grabbed the Doctor's hips in a bruising grip and began ruthlessly pushing forward, groaning deeply as his cock was enveloped in almost painfully tight heat. The Doctor would have gasped at the pain of being entered with no preparation but for Thompson's dick still fucking his mouth, cutting off his airway.

Fully seated, Jacobs basked in the sensation for a moment before setting up a shallow rhythm. The Doctor winced at every dry thrust which quickly became longer and harder, every jolt of Jacob's hips against his arse forcing his mouth further onto Thompson's cock, who now gasped and panted loudly. "Yes, yes, ohh, yes! Mm. Such a good little—uhn—slag, aren't ya?"

"Sure you don't want a go after me, Murrey?" Jacobs offered between his own panting moans. "There's plenty of him to go around and he's tight as a virgin."

Murrey just looked a bit ill and made the mistake of meeting the Doctor's deep brown eyes gazing up at him imploringly. The young man froze, unsure what to do and saved from a decision by Thompson suddenly tensing as he shot his come down the Doctor's throat and pulled back with a deeply satisfied grunt. Unsupported, the Doctor immediately fell to his elbows and began coughing and retching, spitting as much of the man's vile semen onto the floor as he could.

Thompson kneed him in the face. "I should make you lick that all up, slag. You're lucky I'm in such a good mood."

Jacobs moaned in ecstasy, still pounding into the Doctor from behind, harsh rhythm unbroken. "Ooh, he tightens so nicely when you hit him." Thompson punched the prisoner again as a favor to his mate and the Doctor sprawled onto the dirty floor, hips still supported by Jacobs, and didn't rise again. Jacobs thrust deeply a handful more times before finally stilling, releasing his own come deep within the Doctor. He stayed where he was for a few long moments, letting the aftershocks wash over him before he finally pulled his limp cock out, a trail of blood and semen following. He used the Doctor's discarded shirt to clean off his bloody penis before tucking himself back into his trousers and fixing his belt.

"Finally learned to keep your mouth shut, then?" Thompson asked as the Doctor simply lay where he had fallen, staring unnervingly at the three of them standing over him. "Though we certainly wouldn't mind coming back for a repeat lesson, eh?" He and Jacobs laughed.

"Still, probably better not to mention this to Mr. Saxon after all," Jacobs suggested as they retreated from the cell, locking the door behind them.

Murrey glanced apologetically at the Doctor one last time as they exited the cell block, leaving their ravaged prisoner prone and bleeding.

oOoOo

It was hours later when the Master finally came to find him, practically skipping to his cell as he whistled an upbeat tune. "Oh, there you are, old friend!" he exclaimed as he stopped in front of the bars, acting as though he couldn't see the blood and bruises covering his best enemy. "I trust the accommodations are to your liking and the staff have been suitably friendly?"

The Doctor glared tiredly from his spot on the floor. He had managed to pull his trousers back on and rebutton them but hadn't bothered with the rest of his clothes, in too much pain to even move from his slightly curled up position.

"Oh dear," the Master said, exaggeratedly surprised. "It seems that the lesson actually took! Nearly a thousand years of nonstop running your gob, and all it took to finally shut you up was a little roughing up. Who would have thought? Tell me, what exactly did they do? I simply must know!"

"Ask them yourself," the Doctor replied balefully, his voice scratchy and hoarse from the abuse to his throat.

The Master frowned in mock sadness. "Oh, now don't be like that. I just wanted to hear it from you first. I could always just go back and watch the surveillance tapes. Well, when I get a spare moment from conquering the world, of course. If you've learned to behave, I'll let you come back up to the bridge with me. It's really no fun without you there to make angry faces at all the death and destruction I'm wreaking."

The Doctor merely winced and looked away. Not exactly the impassioned reaction he'd been hoping for, a small genuine frown appeared on the Master's face. He slid over to the cell door and unlocked it, carelessly flopping down to sit beside the other Time Lord. "You know, I'm not entirely sure I like seeing you this way after all. I know I sent them in the first place, but I don't really enjoy the idea of someone else causing you pain when I could have been the one to do it." He waited for a response. None seemed forthcoming, the Doctor not breaking his stare with the floor.

"Nothing to say to that? I didn't actually think a simple beating would work so well. I mean, sure, this looks painful enough—" he flippantly prodded at the bruise over the Doctor's broken rib, making him grunt at the sudden pain— "but surely even a couple broken bones aren't enough to make you cease your chattering. Honestly, you're so boring like this—"

The Master cut himself off as his eyes landed on a small puddle of drying white stickiness on the floor near the Doctor's head, and then another mixed with blood by his legs. Suddenly he became aware of another underlying scent in the air, nearly overwhelmed by the stench of blood and sweat and humans, but still lingering in its bitter pungency. His cunning gaze flicked back to the Doctor, still not meeting his eyes.

"What did they do?" the Master asked again, and this time his voice was low and deadly. The Doctor merely curled tighter around himself, and that was answer enough.

The Master shot to his feet, clenching his fists and speechless in rage. He spun around and marched out of the cell down the short hallway to an intercom hanging on the wall next to the cell block door. When he pushed a button and spoke into the microphone, his voice sounded deceptively calm and cheerful.

"Hello, this is your lord and Master speaking. Will the three guards I sent to play with the prisoner earlier please report immediately to the cell block. I'd like a quick word. Don't worry, you're not in trouble!" He released the button and stormed back to the only occupied cell. The Doctor could only hope that the three humans were smart enough not to obey the summons, because whatever lay in store for them would definitely not be good.

Several long minutes passed, the Master waiting patiently with his hands clasped behind his back, until Thompson, Jacobs, and Murrey finally filed in, looking nervous despite themselves. They glanced warily at the Doctor lying in the open cell, only slightly relieved to see that he hadn't somehow died from his injuries after they'd left him.

"Hello, gents," the Master began pleasantly. "Remind me again, what were my exact orders to you in regards to the prisoner?"

Thompson, as the most senior among them, hesitantly spoke up first. "You told us to teach him a lesson in minding his tongue, sir. And not to kill him," he hastened to add.

"Right, right." The Master nodded in agreement. "And I must have missed it, but where exactly in those orders did I tell you to rape him?" His face remained neutral but a hardness crept around the corners of his mouth and there was fire in his eyes. The three men before him fidgeted uncomfortably, beginning to get the feeling that they were in more trouble than they could handle.

It was Jacobs who spoke next. "Sorry, sir, but we assumed that everything else was fair game as long as we didn't kill him. We apologize if we weren't supposed to, but we didn't think it would bother you, sir—"

"Oh, you didn't think it would bother me?" the Master repeated mockingly. "You didn't think I might care that you raped the only other Time Lord in existence? You didn't think it would matter that you deigned to touch the last of my species with your dirty ape hands? You didn't think it might irk me just a bit that you smeared your disgusting human stench all over him? That you _fucked_ my oldest friend?" He was roaring by the last. The Doctor could only watch from the floor of his cell as the men trembled in fear, true panic in their eyes as they fought not to run for their lives.

"You're right. It's doesn't bother me at all," the Master said, suddenly deadly calm again as he pulled his laser screwdriver from his inner suit pocket and began casually fiddling with the settings. "Tell me, which of you fucked him first?" The three remained with mouths shut in terrified silence. "No answer? All right. I'll just have to guess, then. I do love a good guessing game." He pointed his screwdriver at Thompson and fired, hitting him squarely in the groin. The man dropped to the floor with a blood-curdling scream, hands hovering uselessly over his smoking, thoroughly destroyed crotch.

"Which of you was the first to lay your disgusting ape hands on him?" the Master asked next. Without waiting for a reply, he fired at Jacob's right hand, instantly vaporizing it. When the man screamed and dropped to his knees to clutch at his new stump, the Master fired at his left hand too.

"Which of you was first to—"

"Stop this immediately," a sudden voice commanded and the Master turned in surprise to see that the Doctor had managed to haul himself to his feet and was now glaring sternly at him as he heavily leaned for support in the doorway.

"But, Doctor, don't you want to see them pay for what they did to you?" the Master asked in genuine confusion.

"No," the Doctor answered simply and the other Time Lord rolled his eyes. Always the martyr.

"Too bad," the Master replied, turning back to the petrified Murrey. "They have to be punished."

"They've been punished enough," the Doctor insisted.

"Not this one." The Master aimed his screwdriver.

"That one had nothing to do with it," the Doctor said sharply.

"No?" The Master regarded Murrey with interest and for one moment, just half a moment, the young human almost believed he would be sent away unharmed. "So what you're telling me, then, is that he simply stood by and _watched_ as his mates raped you," the Master continued, taking a step closer to the cowering boy. "Just looked on in amusement, I suppose, as you were helplessly ravaged. Watched…and did nothing."

Murrey, knowing now that he would die either way, turned and fled up the corridor, though where he thought he could hide from the Master on an air ship remained a mystery.

"No, I don't think so," the Master called after him. "You didn't use those legs earlier to run for help, did you?" He shot out with his laser screwdriver, catching Murrey on the back of one thigh and sending him tumbling to the floor with a pained shriek. The Master took his time stalking over to him as he tried to crawl away, casually planting a foot on the struggling human's back and pushing down.

"You didn't use your hands to fight them off, did you? In fact, did you use them to help hold him down while your mates had their way with him?" The Master fired twice, once at each of Murrey's hands, vaporizing them both. "You didn't use your voice to call for help, did you?" He reached into Murrey's screaming mouth and pulled out his tongue, shooting it off.

"Master!" the Doctor's irate voice shouted from back down the hall.

"I'll be with you in a moment, Doctor!" the Master sing-songed, flipping Murrey over and sitting on his chest. "Did you listen to him cry and beg with those ears?" he asked before shooting said ears off of Murrey's head. "Did you watch him be ravaged with those eyes?" Green eyes widened as the screwdriver was pointed at them and fired.

Another body collided with the Master's, throwing him off the young soldier beneath him. Too late. Murrey lay dead, corpse half burned to pieces and sizzling. The Master shoved the Doctor off of himself and stood, the other Time Lord groaning on the floor in pain.

"Now look what you've done," the Master told him patronizingly. "You've just gone and hurt yourself even worse, and for what?" He dusted imaginary dirt from his suit coat before bending to haul the injured Doctor to his feet. "Come on, let's get you back to bed so you can lie down and rest." He half-dragged him to a new, clean cell, not even pausing in his stride as he shot Jacobs and Thompson dead on the way.

"You didn't have to kill them," the Doctor rebuked.

"Yes, I did," the Master answered simply, depositing him in the new cell and locking him in. "I'll send someone in later to clean up all the bodies. Unless, of course, you'd like to stare at them for a while? Maybe you'll come to realize that revenge is a dish best served _hot_."

The Doctor was left alone again, feeling tired and ill and hurt and still overwhelmingly violated from the earlier assault. He shuddered deeply as his eyes were drawn to the mutilated bodies of his attackers, nothing to distract him from his thoughts. A not-so-small part of him wondered if maybe the Master was right, that maybe they had gotten what they deserved. He stubbornly squashed that part down before it could take root. (A Time Lord's life was a long time to live with bitterness.) Everyone deserved a second chance at life. Didn't they?

The overwhelming stench of burned flesh filled the air and combined with the metallic scent of blood, undercut only by the tangy smell of sex. The Doctor wrapped his arms around himself and drew his knees up, his only defense against the sightless stares of the three dead men.

oOoOo

The Master did eventually send in servants to clean up the rather extensive mess, as promised, and the Doctor wondered what they thought of as they did so. Did they realize yet what they had gotten themselves into, what kind of man they were serving? Were they even here by choice? The Doctor wanted to warn them to get out while they still could, but he knew it was impossible. The only way off this ship now was over the side in mid-flight.

The Doctor estimated it was some time after midnight and the lights in the cell block had been dramatically dimmed so that he could barely make out his hand in front of his face, even with his superior Time Lord eyesight, when the hall door opened. Light from the corridor outside flooded in and the Doctor was momentarily blinded before it shut again. He waited in silence as quiet footsteps drew near, unsure what to expect as he heard his cell door unlock. If he had been unhurt, he might have considered jumping the mystery person and trying to make a break for it, but as it was, his body ached too much to even contemplate moving. He remained where he sat, leaning against the wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him, waiting to see what would happen.

There was a long moment of silence between them which the Doctor considered breaking but thought better of it. Recent events had taught him to be wary with his speech—at least until he had a better handle on the situation.

When neither spoke and both remained unmoving for a full minute, the other person finally stepped forward until the Doctor could just make out the vague shadow crouched in front of him. He jumped at the unexpected touch of gentle hands on his face, wincing as the move jostled his broken rib. The hands dropped away and there was a rustle of clothes as the other person shifted. Suddenly there was a head on his lap and arms wound around his torso, careful to not put pressure on his injuries.

The Doctor's hands hovered helplessly for a moment before he cautiously lowered one to rest on the person's shoulder and the other on his head, not too surprised to feel familiar short hair under his fingertips. "Master?"

The other Time Lord shushed him. "Don't speak." And he didn't.

The fragile moment of peace between them felt oddly calm and even normal as the Doctor slowly ran his hand through the Master's hair, as if this was how it was supposed to have been all along. They had been friends once. What had happened between them to change that?

The silence stretched on between them until the Doctor became aware of the shoulder under his hand softly shaking. He paused in his gentle ministrations, unsure, and moved to take his hands away but the arms around him tightened and the head in his lap pressed closer. The Doctor tried not to gasp at the sudden increase of pressure on his ribs, lowering his hands again and stroking soothingly as the shaking increased in silent sobs. The Doctor thought he understood.

They remained like that, together, for what could have been minutes or hours. The sobs had ceased and the Master's breathing was deep and even by the time the Doctor felt exhaustion finally creeping over him.

When he woke in the morning to the harsh flow of fluorescent lighting, alone in his cell again, he wondered if it all had been just a dream.

oOoOo

The Doctor was beginning to think he'd been entirely forgotten by the time the Master finally returned for him late the following evening. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he strode into the cell block and immediately began pacing in front of the Doctor's prison.

Well, the Doctor consoled himself, at least whatever else happened, his existing wounds had had some nice time to heal.

"Something wrong, Master?" he asked blandly when the other Time Lord just continued pacing.

Immediately he exploded into agitated speech. "I tried to forget about it, really, I did, because it already happened and there's nothing I can do about it, can I? Those bastards who did it are dead already and, my, how I wish—I really, really wish—that I had taken longer killing them, because they took something that wasn't theirs, they touched something that didn't belong to them, and they deserved so much worse, so much slower, so much more painful, didn't they? But I can't change that now, I can't change any of it." He stopped pacing as his eyes snapped suddenly to meet the other's, and the Doctor very nearly recoiled from the intensity.

"But I can erase it," the Master said passionately. "I can erase their touch from you, all trace of it. I can make you forget all about them, remove their stinking human scent from you."

"What are you talking about?" the Doctor asked warily.

"And then I'll protect you," the Master continued, heedless of the interruption. "I'll make it so no one will ever touch you again. I know how. But first I have to erase it all from you." He unlocked the cell and stepped in, relocking it behind him. The Doctor used the wall he leant against to push himself to his feet, keen on keeping a cautious distance between them. He was still clad in only his trousers, his shirt and coats having been left in his original cell and then taken away somewhere when it was cleaned, and he suddenly felt very exposed.

The Master crossed the length of the cell in a few short paces, taking hold of the Doctor's arms in a bruising grip. "Don't worry, Doctor. I'll fix it for you." He pulled him in for a hard kiss and the Doctor froze in shock before shoving him away.

"What are you doing?" he demanded angrily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't fight it," the Master replied, stepping towards him again and cornering him against the wall. "It's not right that dirty humans should have you, should taint your body with their filth. We're so far above them. You should never have been dragged down to their level. But it's okay. I'll replace their scent with my own. I'll erase their touch with mine." His hands began roaming over the Doctor's chest as he spoke, only to be pushed away again.

"I don't need you to erase anything," the Doctor said, trying a reasoning tone. "Don't do this. We can both forget what happened. Never think about it again. Just don't do this. All the years we've known each other, all the things we've been through together, we'll never be able to move past this. You don't need to do it."

The Master paused in his movements, gazing sadly at the other, and for a moment the Doctor hoped that maybe reason had won out. He didn't resist when the Master gently cupped his face. "Oh, Doctor. Yes, I do."

The Doctor was shoved back against the wall, lingering bruises and aches protesting the rough treatment as he struggled against the Master. He was taller, but never used his strength for much other than running, and the Master was more physically dominating and not opposed to using pain to subdue him.

The Doctor doubled over as the Master dealt him a swift punch to the solar plexus, leaving him breathless and giving the other time to yank open his trousers. The Doctor found fear flooding his gut for the second time in as many days and for the same reason.

"Please," he gasped, grabbing the other Time Lord's wrist in an iron hold. "Master. Don't do this. I'm begging you."

The Master's lips turned down in a displeased scowl. "Did you beg them too?" He twisted his wrist free and finished shoving the Doctor's trousers down before he could stop him. "Tell me, Doctor," he whispered, puling him in close so their chests touched as he ran his hands up and down the broad expanse of smooth back muscles. "Tell me where they touched you, and I'll make it better."

"It doesn't matter because they're dead and it already happened and it's over now," the Doctor snapped, trying in vain to push him away again as the Master clung on. "Nothing you can do now will change it. This isn't erasing what they did to me; it's only doing it again."

The Master slapped him across the face, frowning up at him as the Doctor raised a hand to his stinging cheek, stunned. "They _raped_ you, Doctor. Violated you against your will. What I'm doing is nothing like that."

"It's exactly the same," the Doctor retorted quietly. "I don't want it."

The Master's face hardened. "Too bad. You've never known what's good for you. You act so keen to help me with the drums—first let me help you."

"This isn't helping anything," the Doctor protested uselessly as he was shoved to the floor, the Master straddling his waist. The shorter man ground their hips together and the Doctor could feel the Master's arousal already straining at his trousers. Rather than being aroused himself, the Doctor felt terrified and angry—that this was happening to him again and that it was by his oldest friend, one of the last people he would have thought would do this to him. "Get off of me," he implored. "It's not too late to stop."

"Oh, Doctor. You and your words. Will you never learn to shut up?" the Master complained. "That's what got you into this mess in the first place." He silenced any further protest with another bruising kiss, pinning the Doctor's interfering hands to the floor. "Now, tell me where they touched you. Did they touch you here?" He lightly kissed the Doctor's mouth, slipping his tongue in past soft lips to thoroughly lick and explore every surface he could find.

When he deemed the Doctor's mouth suitably clean of human touch, he withdrew to move down to the Doctor's long, slender neck. "Did they touch you here?" He laved his tongue over the thick pulse point at his throat, the Doctor squirming uncomfortably away from the sensation but unable to break free.

"Here?" the Master asked, trailing his nose down the thin chest and brushing his lips over the fine hairs there.

"No," the Doctor growled out, bucking his hips to try to throw him off.

"No? Lower?" The Master looked displeased, switching his grip to trap the Doctor's hands above his head with one hand, leaving the other free to trail down his sides as he scooted himself further down the Doctor's legs. He dropped a light, apologetic kiss against the angry green and yellow bruise over his ribs before sliding his hand down over slender hips and finally fondling the Doctor's balls and limp cock. "Here?"

"No!"

The answer unexpectedly only seemed to make the Master even angrier. "Didn't even try to make it nice for you, did they? Don't worry, I'll be much kinder." His hand dropped lower and the Doctor jumped as he felt fingers brush against his arse.

"Don't—!"

The Master shushed at him as he pressed the first finger in, the Doctor tense beneath him but unable to gain the leverage needed to buck him off or the angle to kick him. "Just relax," he urged. "It'll all be better soon."

The Doctor felt frustrated tears welling in his eyes as another finger was pushed inside him. How was he supposed to save the world from this man when he couldn't even save himself? The Master's belt clinking as it was unbuckled one-handedly drew him back to the present and how much worse the situation was about to become. The Master's erection sprang free from his opened trousers and he stroked it a few times to full hardness.

"I know they touched you here, planted their filthy seed in your body, but I'll purge it all. I'll make you clean again, Doctor," he promised as he pushed the Doctor's legs open and lined himself up.

"Please," the Doctor whispered one last time, tears finally overflowing.

The Master pushed forward. "Don't worry, Doctor. Don't worry," he repeated breathlessly until the base of his cock was fully encased in tight heat and his hips touched the Doctor's. He withdrew until only the tip remained inside and then pushed slowly forward again, not giving the Doctor much time to adjust to the intrusion. When he had done this a few times he began picking up the pace, setting a steady rhythm and ignoring the silent tears of the man below him.

The Doctor had given up fighting as he was fucked again. What was the point? Clearly he had no control over anything anymore. Is this what the entire next year held in store for him as he waited day after day for the countdown to draw near? And that was only _if_ Martha somehow succeeded in the impossible mission he had set to her. The Doctor held no illusions that he could very well have sent her to her death.

The Master clutched the Doctor's hips, raising his legs higher for better leverage as he harshly pounded into him. His eyes were clenched shut in pleasure or purpose and the Doctor gazed sadly at him, ignoring the pain for now. Later the pain would come and he would have to deal with it then, when he couldn't run anymore.

The rhythm grew unsteady as the Master gave a few last frenzied thrusts before leaning over the Doctor and coming deep inside him, whispering and murmuring all the while. "Just like that, yes. Wipe out their filth, make you clean again. You're mine, you're all better now."

The Doctor winced in discomfort as the Master finally pulled out and leaned back on his heels. He could feel warm liquid trailing down his thigh and didn't know if it was come or blood or both. Didn't care. The Master sat beside him, soothing his hands all over the thin body as the Doctor didn't move.

"It's better now, isn't it? I told you I would make it better and I did," the Master insisted. The Doctor just shifted tired eyes over to give him a blank stare. The Master responded by kissing him again. "You're mine," he whispered against his lips. "And I'll never let another touch you again."

He drew back and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out his laser screwdriver. The Doctor eyed it somewhat warily but knew he couldn't defend himself even if he had the energy to.

"This is how I'm going to protect you," the Master told him, a proud glint in his insane eyes. "You remember Dr. Lazarus, don't you, Doctor?"

oOoOo

End. This was my first time writing an explicit scene. Please let me know how I did.


End file.
